The fog and the haze blurred my vision,
But not enough to shun the rays
Emanating from the crimson demure.
A sparkling dew and the misty crystal she is.
I have seen hearts drenched in the blood of hypocrisy,
But the subliminal fragrance exuding
From The crevices and cracks of heart
Lingers in the magnificent realm,
Where peace spread her wings to fly.
Today the sun reminded me of you,
And the time where the night
Dissolves into each day,
It heralds of life that it sure has an end.
And the words I scribble will remain
Perhaps inscribed onto
the walls of the pure hearts.
I write these letters to sing for your odes or ballads,
And my pen fearing to bleed the words.
So that on the scale they don’t fall short,
To describe the unseen , reticent—you.
You hide the tale in the mauve labyrinth—
The purple hue of the petals you collected.
These are my last few sentences for you,
Who knows about morrow,
The time is tricky to be said.
Somehere i can sense the marks
On the sands of time that you have left.